


Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200

by tomato_greens



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Strip Games, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomato_greens/pseuds/tomato_greens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles cackled and slapped the little silver Scottie dog six spaces forward, landing squarely on B&O Railroad, which had––impossibly!––remained unclaimed until this very moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200

**Author's Note:**

> For an anon on [Tumblr](http://tomato-greens.tumblr.com/post/39277978709/fic-do-not-pass-go-do-not-collect-200). The prompt was "strip poker," but I am very bad at poker and I got too impatient to write UST so uhhhhh they're playing Monopoly.

Stiles cackled and slapped the little silver Scottie dog six spaces forward, landing squarely on B&O Railroad, which had––impossibly!––remained unclaimed until this very moment. “Mine!” he shouted, shoving fistfuls of colorful cash at Derek, who was nominally playing banker.

“No,” said Derek, weakly, tucking the money away with the ingrained and long-suffering sigh of a younger sibling. “Ugh. I can’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry even the Monopoly board can’t resist my charms,” Stiles said, still laughing. He stroked the side of the board a little, smiling wide. 

“I hate you,” said Derek, and rolled a three, which landed his racecar squarely on the same railroad. Stiles let out a hoot of delighted laughter––Derek was already shirtless, sockless, and beltless, and Stiles had been kind enough to let him undo the belt one hole at a time.

“Yes!” crowed Stiles, who was missing two of his three shirts and one sock but had managed to otherwise keep his virtue intact. “Pants off!” 

Derek rolled his eyes with extreme prejudice. “This is immature.”

“So you’ve been saying the entire time, but I haven’t seen you stop playing yet,” Stiles pointed out. 

Derek huffed a sigh and stood up, shimmying off his pants with very little fanfare. Stiles was surprised to see he’d managed to fit regular boxers on under there––old, blue-striped, worn almost through. “There, are you satisfied?”

“Not yet,” said Stiles, and looked away before his cheeks could heat up without his permission. “Your turn.”

Derek rolled––“oh,” he said, because for once it wasn’t a terrible roll. “Community chest.”

Stiles felt his eyes slide over to Derek’s bare collarbone––and then down––utterly without his consent. Derek cleared his throat awkwardly; Stiles shot his eyes away. “Uh, what’s it say?” he asked.

Derek squinted at the card in front of him. “We’re off the gold standard?”

“Huzzah!” Stiles exclaimed, and handed him fifty dollars in a twenty, two tens and two fives, which was how Derek preferred it in real money.

Derek eyed the bills. “How’d you know how much––”

“My mom and I played a lot,” Stiles explained. He coughed. “Anyway, congratulations.” He handed Derek a sock. “In case you’re getting cold.”

“Your magnanimity knows no bounds,” Derek said wearily. “Your turn.”

Stiles gathered up the dice and blew on them. “What?” he asked when he saw Derek staring. “For luck, you know?”

“Just throw the dice,” Derek ordered.

Stiles did, and moved the Scottie dog––

“Aha! Luck’s coming around,” Derek said, sing-song, which Stiles would never have believed if he hadn’t heard it with his own ears. Derek reached over and brought the dog over to the jail square himself, but Stiles couldn’t let go quite soon enough and their fingers ended up tangled. Somehow neither of them seemed to be able to let go. “Uh,” said Derek. He still had the sock dangling from his other hand.

“Well,” Stiles hedged awkwardly, halfheartedly trying to detach himself. “This wasn’t quite how I pictured this happening.”

“I don’t know why I––” said Derek.

Stiles shrugged. “It feels nice,” he said, and handed Derek the dice. He turned his hand over, let their palms touch. 

Derek rolled snake eyes, rolled again and got three–– 

“Take a chance,” said Stiles, moving the racecar and handing him a card, and Derek smiled, leaned in.


End file.
